Turbulent Waters
by Dimonah Tralon
Summary: Complete It can be dangerous to get Spot mad...
1. Chapter 1

Title: Turbulent Waters

Author: Dimonah Tralon

Category: Newsies

Genre: Humor with a little bit of Drama

Rating: PG

**Author's Note--PLEASE READ:** I do not actually speak French, so the translation may be a little off. And two more things: in this fic, Bookworm and Pockets live in Brooklyn, not Manhattan, but Bookworm is still dating Racetrack. Bookworm knows French because her parents spoke both French and English to her as a child, therefore by the time she was 8, she could speak both languages fluently. A big thanks to LegallyRed for her help! It was she that got rid of my writer's block--I owe ya one! And also a huge thanks to Pockets, who helped me write the last (practically) half of this, and who helped me with the French.

* * *

I stormed into the bunkroom and threw myself onto my bed. How could he _say _such a thing?! Why was the whole world against me today? It made me want to scream in frustration. So, I did. I yanked off one of my boots and threw it with all my might across the room, letting out a shriek of irritation. My boot hit the wall with a semi-satisfying _smack_. I would have felt better if it had made a mark on the wall or something. What I really needed was a tennis ball or something else that bounced when you threw it. I wanted to break something. I briefly thought of burning the playing cards that someone had left on one of the beds, but I knew that I would feel incredibly guilty later, if Spot didn't kill me first. 

I walked across the room and grabbed my boot. I pulled it back onto my foot, then kicked the wall with all as much force as I could muster. This action only caused me to cry out as pain shot through my foot. I plopped down onto the floor, and took off my boot again, along with my sock so I could survey the damage that I had done to my toes. They were already a little red, and I had a feeling that it was going to hurt to walk for at least a day or two. And I blamed Spot entirely. If he hadn't gotten me so mad, I wouldn't have kicked the door, and my foot wouldn't be hurting at the moment. I got up and made my way back over to my bed and sat down, rubbing my still aching foot. _Stupid Spot,_ I thought as I put my sock and shoe back on.

"Bookworm?" _Speak of the devil. Just I what I do _not_ need right now. I swear, if he comes in here…_

I looked up as Spot walked into the bunkroom. "Leave me alone, Spot," I warned, getting up from the bed and walking in the direction of the stairs. As I passed by him, he reached out an arm and grabbed me around my waist, pulling my back up against his chest so that I couldn't go anywhere. I immediately attempted to elbow him in the gut, but he dodged it. I started struggling, trying everything I could thing of to get him to let me go, but nothing I did worked. Spot was able to evade every punch or kick that I threw his way. Ultimately, he simply pinned my arms to my sides by wrapping both his arms tightly around my waist, and just tried to hold me still as I continued trying to attack him. Finally, after a few minutes, I was utterly exhausted, and I fell against him, breathing heavily and trying not to cry.

When he sensed that I wasn't going to try to kill him anymore, he loosened his grip slightly. As soon as he relaxed his hold on me, I gave a half-hearted attempt to break free, but the moment I did, his grasp tightened once more.

"Now, now, none of that," Spot murmured in my ear.

"Just let me go, Spot," I pleaded quietly. I wanted to be alone when I lost all control and started crying. I hated to let others see me cry.

"No, I don't think I will." At this statement, all of my anger came rushing back, along with my strength. "I want to talk to ya, and if I let you go, you'll run away. And if you run away, then I won't be able to talk to you."

"Well, that's just fine with me, cause I don't _want_ to talk to you!" I said, stubbornly trying to break free again.

"You keep struggling, and I'll be forced to pin ya to your bed," Spot warned.

"Oh yeah? I'd love to see you try," I sneered over my shoulder, once more trying to break free. _That was probably the stupidest thing I have ever said,_ I thought as soon as the words left my mouth. Sure enough, Spot started dragging me over towards my bed. I started to resist again, but it was no use. He was surprisingly strong for how short he was. Reaching the bed, Spot practically threw me onto it. Landing on my stomach, I rolled over and sat up, intending to jump off the bed and run. Before I had a chance, Spot had straddled my legs and pinned my arms above my head against the mattress, effectively rendering me basically immovable. I tried to wriggle away, but Spot only tightened his grip. I stopped fighting, and settled for glaring up at him instead.

"You gonna stop fighting me now?" he asked, looking down at me. In response, I made another effort to break his hold on my wrists. Spot didn't say anything; he simply tightened his grip until my wrists started hurting. When I stopped trying to break free, he loosened his hold, but only slightly. "Well?" he asked, still waiting for my answer to his previous question. I continued glaring at him, but I nodded. "Good."

"Are you going to get off of me?" I asked when Spot made no move to. He shook his head, smirking slightly. "Why?" I demanded.

"I don't trust that you'll stay put," he said.

"Does it look like I care if you trust me or not?!" I yelled, once more trying to get away from him. "Get off of me, you jerk!" Spot narrowed his eyes at me. He raised a hand, and for one terrifying moment, I thought he was going to backhand me. I winced, but nothing happened. Opening my eyes, I saw him staring daggers at me. He pointed a finger at me.

"That was a warning, Bookworm. I'd advise you to watch what you say," he warned, grabbing hold of my wrist again. I gulped and nodded somewhat meekly. "Now, you're gonna listen ta what I've got ta say, you're gonna answer any question that I ask, you're gonna stop struggling, and your gonna stop yelling. And when I'm done, then _maybe_ I'll get off of ya. Understand?" I didn't dare argue against that tone. I nodded again. "Good. Alright, first question: what is wrong with ya today? You're actin' like the whole world is out ta get you."

"The whole world _is_ out to get me. It's always been that way, ever since the night that…" I suddenly clamped my mouth shut. Nobody knew about my past, and nobody ever would.

"The night that what?" Spot asked, curious. I shook my head.

"Nothing," I said, not meeting his eyes.

"The night that _what_, Bookworm?" Spot asked again, more forcefully this time.

"The night that my parents died!" I practically yelled, glaring hatefully at him. If looks could kill, Spot would have died and decomposed right then and there. While I was angry at Spot for making me tell him, I was even angrier at the fact that a tear somehow made it past my carefully constructed defenses, and slipped down my face when I revealed this piece of information. I hated to show any sort of weakness in front of anyone, especially Spot.

Much to my relief, Spot didn't seem to notice. He simply nodded, and asked the next question.

"What happened the night your parents died?" At first I couldn't say anything because I was so shocked that he had actually asked that question. Over the years I had learned that you never asked about someone else's past. If they choose to tell you, well then that was fine. But you never asked. I shook my head.

"No. That is the one question that I will _not_ answer, Spot. I'll tell you anything else that you want to know, but nothing about that night." There was no way in heck I was going to tell him anything about that night. He already knew everything he needed to know--my parents had died, and that was all he would ever know. Spot didn't look too surprised when I refused to tell him.

"So why are ya so angry today?" he wanted to know. "You're usually so calm."

"I've got a right to get angry, just like anybody else," I said, struggling not to shout. It was taking a lot of willpower to not fight to get him off of me.

"I never said you didn't have the right," Spot said. "I simply asked why you was angry."

"I have no idea, so just leave me alone!" I demanded, looking away.

"Ya must have _some _idea why you're so angry," Spot said.

"Well I don't, so get off my back!" I yelled.

"Technically, I'm not on your back," he said with a maddening smirk.

"Tais-toi, tu perdant!" I spat. (AN: pronounced Tay-twa too pair-daun. Translation: Shut up, you looser!) Spot looked at me in exasperation.

"What have I told you about insulting people in French?" he asked. I pretended to think really hard.

"Probably something along the lines of…not to," I said, fighting to keep from grinning. Spot glared at me.

"What'd you say?" he asked. This time I let a smug grin cross my lips.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" I asked, being one-hundred percent disrespectful. To my utter shock, Spot suddenly climbed off. I propped myself up onto my elbows, wondering what was going on. Whatever it was, it wasn't good. Sure enough, he reached down, grabbed me by the arm and yanked me to my feet.

"That's it. You're goin' in the river," he said as he stared dragging me out of the Brooklyn Lodging House.

"Oh no, not the river!" I cried in mock fear. "Anything but the river!" I knew that he wouldn't _actually_ throw me in. He'd threatened to toss me in the river hundreds of times, but he never actually did. He would just hold me over the water, pretending he was going to let me go, until I apologized for whatever prank I had just pulled. On the way there, I would mock-protest while he would go along with it, constantly taunting me.

Suddenly I realized that something was different this time: he wasn't saying a word. Instead of taunting me, he simply glanced back at me for a moment, then continued dragging me towards the docks. _Oh my land. He's actually going to throw me in._ Swiftly the protest became real.

"Spot no! I'm sorry!" I started thrashing about, trying anything I could think of to get him to let go. I really didn't feel like going for a swim.

Without warning, Spot whipped around, bent down, grabbed me right below the knees, and threw me over his shoulder. _This is not good._ I started pounding him on the back and kicking my feet.

"Spot, please! Don't do it! Don't do it, put me down!" Spot stopped at the edge of the docks.

"You want me to put you down?" he asked, and I could hear the smirk in his voice. My eyes grew wide.

"No!" I cried, but it was useless.

"Your wish is my command." With that, he threw me into the freezing cold water. I barely had enough time to grab a lungful of air before hitting the water. As I was making my way towards the surface, I suddenly remembered the igneous idea that I had had a few weeks ago. There was a ladder was on the other side of the docks. I quickly swam under the docks, where I quietly came up for air. I swam over to the ladder and climbed partway up. Only far enough that I was no longer in the water, but they couldn't see me on the docks yet.

"Spot, where is she?" I heard Pockets ask in a concerned tone. I grinned. She was playing her part perfectly. We had discussed what I would do if Spot ever actually threw me in the river. I would hide on one of the ladders while she made him think I was drowning.

"She'll surface in a minute," Spot said, although he did sound slightly worried.

"I'm not sure how well she can swim. She spends a lot of time reading, not swimming." Spot didn't answer. The next thing I heard were two thumps, and I saw Spot hit the water in a graceful dive. I hastily climbed the rest of the ladder.

"Wonderful job, Pockets," I commented as I made my way to the edge so that I could watch him surface.

"Thanks," she said with a small bow. Just then, Spot came back up.

"I can't find…" he trailed off, his expression going from worried to astonishment to anger as he saw me standing on the docks perfectly safe.

I mock applauded him and said, "Riveting performance, darling," in a thick British accent. I bent over and picked up his slingshot that he had tossed next to his cane before he went to rescue me. "Now if you'll excuse me, I must be going. Ta-ta!" I said, saluting him with his slingshot, and took off running towards Manhattan, his slingshot still in my hand.

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AN: Well, that's it! I had planned on it only being a one-shot, but if you guys want me to continue this story, I can do my best. If you do, I warn you now that I don't know how long it will be until the next update. 


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Well, you guys wanted me to continue this, so I did! I hope you guys enjoy this chapter as well. It has a little bit of drama, but it does start out with some humor as well.

* * *

I didn't bother looking behind me as I continued running. I had gotten a head start on Spot, who I knew was probably coming after me. If I looked behind me, I would automatically slow down, and I couldn't afford to. As I dodged people, I kept an eye out for Racetrack. He was the reason I chose to run to Manhattan, rather than stay in Brooklyn. As I ran, I stuck Spot's slingshot into my belt so I didn't have to hold it anymore. 

Turning a corner, I rammed into someone and started to fall. A pair of arms went around my waist to stop me. Looking up, I saw Racetrack, a smile on his face.

"Well, if it ain't the prettiest newsie I've ever seen," he said, keeping his arms around my waist. Then his brow furrowed. "Why are you all wet?" I started laughing.

"Because…Spot…" I couldn't get the words out, I was laughing so hard, clinging to Racetrack so that I wouldn't fall down.

After I finally started calming down, I straightened up, wiping my eyes and trying to catch my breath.

"I'm sorry. It's just the look on Spot's face…" I trailed off. "Maybe I should start at the beginning," I said, seeing the slightly confused look on Racetrack's face.

"Did you really take Spot's slingshot?" he asked after I finished telling him what had happened and why I was soaking wet--and getting cold, now that I thought about it.

"You better believe it," I said, going to pull it out of my belt so I could show Racetrack that I wasn't kidding. My eyes grew wide and I looked back towards my hip only to confirm my suspicions: the slingshot was gone. I looked back up at Racetrack, trying not to panic.

"I've lost his slingshot!" I said, struggling to keep from shouting. "What am I gonna do? I can't tell Spot! But I'll have to. He'll find out sooner or later. But he's gonna kill me! Race, what am I gonna do?!" I cried, grabbing him by his vest. He reached up and took my hands, gently prying them off.

"It's okay, Bookworm," he said. "I'm sure that…"

"It's _not_ okay!" I yelled. "How am I supposed to tell the King of Brooklyn that I've lost his slingshot? Spot's gonna kill me! He's gonna kick me out of Brooklyn! He's…"

"Right behind you," came an all-too familiar voice.

"Pourquoi moi?" I groaned. (AN: pronounced por-qua mwa. Translation: Why me?) I slowly turned around and screamed in surprise, automatically ducking behind Racetrack. Spot was standing there, slingshot locked and loaded…and aimed directly at my head.

I cautiously peered over Racetrack's shoulder. "I see you've found your slingshot," I said, somewhat shakily, ready to duck back behind Racetrack at any moment. After a few moments, Spot lowered the slingshot and stuck it in his belt.

"Say goodbye to Racetrack, Bookworm," he said, crossing his arms over his chest. I looked at Spot confusedly.

"Why?" I questioned, not really liking where this was going.

"Because you're not gonna see him for two weeks." I started laughing.

"Yeah, right, Spot. What makes you think that I'm going to stay in Brooklyn for two weeks without coming to Manhattan to see Race?"

"Well, as punishment for that little stunt that ya pulled back on the docks, and for takin' my slingshot, I'm confining you to Brooklyn for two weeks." I smirked.

"Fine with me. Race can just come to Brooklyn," I said, glancing at Racetrack, who nodded. Spot grinned, and I got a bad feeling that he was about to say something that I wasn't going to like.

"I'm afraid that won't be possible," he said. "Racetrack is hereby banned from Brooklyn for the next two weeks."

My jaw dropped. _No way. He can't do that…can he? _"You can't be serious!" I cried once I found my voice.

"I'm completely serious," Spot said. "Now say goodbye." I fought back sudden tears. This really wasn't my day.

"Can you give us a few minutes?" I pleaded. I knew better than to argue with Spot. If I did, he would simply extend my punishment, and I certainly didn't want that. Two weeks would be hard enough. Spot thought about if for a few moments. Then he sighed.

"You've got two minutes," he said, walking away. "I'll be just around this corner." After he left, I turned to Racetrack.

"I'm sorry," I said quietly. "This isn't fair to you. I should have thought before…" I was cut off by Racetrack putting a finger to my lips.

"Don't worry about it, Bookworm. Let's just enjoy the time we've got left, okay?" Without waiting for me to reply, he leaned over and kissed me. I automatically wrapped my arms around his neck as he wrapped his arms around my waist, pulling me up against him. I didn't even try to hold back the few tears that made their way down my face. The kiss ended all too soon for me, and I'm sure the same went for Racetrack as well. He reached up and gently wiped the tears away. "It'll be alright, Bookworm. It's not like you're never gonna see me again. It's only two weeks."

"It'll feel like a month," I said, laying my head on his shoulder, my arms still around his neck. We just stood there, with his arms around my waist, and his head on top of mine. Before I knew it, I heard Spot's voice behind me.

"Let's go, Bookworm." I slowly straightened up and stepped away from Racetrack.

"Je t'aime," I said. (AN: pronounced zja tem. Translation: I love you.) Racetrack smiled.

"Same to you," he said. "I'll see ya in two weeks, and not a day more!" he promised. I tried to smile.

"I look forward to it," I called as Spot started dragging me away by the arm. Right before we turned the corner, I glanced back at Racetrack one last time. He smiled and waved, then disappeared from view as Spot and I rounded the corner.

* * *

A/N: Don't worry--there's more coming. I don't know how soon, but hopefully within a week. Hope you liked it! And thanks to Pockets for once more helping me out with the French. 


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Well, here's the next chapter. I'm working on the next one, and hopefully, if all goes well, it will be up by Sunday. I'll do my best to finish the next chapter before then, but if I don't, please don't hold it against me! Oh, and one more thing: I do not own Newsies.

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Chapter 3 

I woke up a week later feeling totally miserable. _Another day without seeing Race. That's seven down, and seven to go. _I groaned and pulled my blanket over my head.

"Time to get up!" I heard Spot call. I sighed and rolled out of bed, too tired to argue, and not really wanting to anyway. Pockets walked over to me and slung an arm around my shoulders.

"Cheer up, Bookworm," she said. "Only a week left to go."

"But it's felt like a month, and it's only been a week," I moaned. "How on earth am I going to last another week?" Pockets hugged me.

"You'll find a way." She glanced around, then leaned closer. "If you want, I can go to Manhattan and give Racetrack any messages that you have for him," she said quietly.

"You would do that?" I asked. When she nodded, I grinned and threw my arms around her. "Youse the best!"

"So, have you thought about how you're going to get Spot back for banning you from Manhattan?" Pockets wanted to know. I shook my head.

"I'm not," I said simply. Pockets was shocked for a moment.

"But why?" she asked incredulously. I sighed.

"I'm not about to get on Spot's bad side again, Pockets. If I do, what's stopping him from extending the two weeks to a month or more? I won't do that to Race!" Pockets was silent for a few moments.

"What about a guilt trip? Or the silent treatment?" she asked mischievously. I grinned.

"Oh, you better believe I'm gonna lay on the guilt," I said. "He can't punish me for moping around and acting completely miserable." Pockets beamed. "I've already been doing the silent treatment. I'm not about to stop that now."

"That's the spirit, girl!" she said. Just then Spot walked up to us.

"Mornin' you two!" he said with a smile, just like he did every morning. "How are my two favorite newsies?" I simply frowned at him, then started walking away.

"What's _her_ problem?" I heard Spot ask. "She hasn't said one word to me for a week." It took every ounce of self control that I had to not march back and tell Spot just what my "problem" was.

"Hello, you've banned her from seeing her boyfriend for two weeks, Spot. Why do you think she's acting like this?" Pockets said sarcastically. I didn't hear Spot's reply because I walked out the door and started a slow walk towards the Brooklyn Distribution Center.

"20 papes," I requested once I got there, not seeing Spot come up behind me.

"That's all yer gettin' today?" he asked. I picked up my papes and headed out towards the street, without saying a word to Spot. "Hey, I asked ya a question, Bookworm!" he said, jogging after me. Still, I said nothing as I sat down on the curb. I had made up my mind a week ago: I was not going to talk to Spot Conlon at all for the two weeks; I wasn't even going to look at him. "Look at me, will ya?" he almost demanded, sitting next to me on the curb.

I started scanning the headlines, deliberately ignoring him. After a few moments, I realized that I wasn't really actually _reading_ anything; I was just going through the motions. All I could think about was Racetrack, and how it was going to be another long week without him. Suddenly, all I wanted was to be alone. I hastily got to my feet and took off down the street, not really caring where I was going.

"Bookworm!" Spot called after me, but I kept running. All I cared about right then was being left alone. Unfortunately, Spot had other plans for me. As I turned a corner, I glanced behind me and saw Spot running after me. After awhile, I slowed down, unable to run any more.

I stepped into an alley and leaned up against the wall, trying to catch my breath and fighting back tears that threatened to spill over at the thought that I wasn't going to see Racetrack for another whole week.

"Get a grip, Bookworm," I mumbled to myself, sliding down the wall and sitting on the ground, making sure to keep my papes on my lap so they wouldn't get dirty. "Pockets is right--it's only a week more. You can last that long."

A shadow fell over me and I looked up, not really surprised to find Spot standing over me. I glared up at him, but didn't say anything.

"Now, don't you give me that look, Bookworm," Spot warned. "It's your own fault that you can't see Racetrack for another week." I got to my feet and attempted to walk past him, but he grabbed my arm. "Don't walk away from me when I'm talkin' to ya. And look at me, would ya?!" I held back a sigh as I turned to face him. "Thank you. Now, what is your problem? Ya haven't said a single word to me for the past week, and I want to know why."

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. Was he serious? Did he actually not know?

"Are you serious?" I finally asked, unsuccessfully holding back the laughter in my voice. "You honestly have no idea why I refuse to speak to you for the time being?" I laughed and shook my head. "Thanks, Spot. I needed a laugh. Now, if you'll excuse me, I must be going." I started to walk away, but Spot grabbed my arm again.

"Hey, I wasn't done talkin' to ya. And ya still haven't answered my question. You've been nothin' but rude to me this whole week. Why?" I looked at him in exasperation.

"Once I finally get to see Racetrack again, Spot, then I'll _think_ about speaking civilly to you again. But not until then."

"_That's_ why you're actin' like this? 'Cause I won't let ya see your boyfriend for another week?" Spot asked incredulously. I glared at him.

"Are you done? 'Cause I've got some papes I gotta sell." This time when I tried to walk away, he didn't stop me. He simply watched as I turned the corner and disappeared from sight.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Thank you so much for all of your nice reviews! This is the final chapter, and I hope that you guys like it! Enjoy!

Chapter 4

_I hope this gets to you without Spot knowing about it. He probably wouldn't like it if he found out that I had found a way to contact you. But I just _had_ to talk to you. Well, as much as I can talk to you when I'm stuck in Brooklyn for another four days. I miss you so much, Racetrack. I hope the time has passed quicker for you than it has for me this past week and a half. Pockets has kindly offered to pass on any messages that I have to you, and vice versa. Anyway, on to the point of my little note here…when the two weeks are finally up, should I come to Manhattan, or do you want to come to Brooklyn? Or should we meet half-way? I can't wait to see ya again._

All my love,

Bookworm

"Pockets?" I called, folding the note and standing up and looking around the bunkroom.

"Aye?" she said, waving to show me where she was. I laughed and walked over to where she was sitting.

"You really need to lay off those pirate books," I told her, sitting down next to her. "Got a favor to ask of ya."

"What?" she asked. I held out the note that I had written.

"Could you take this to Manhattan for me and give it to Racetrack?" I asked quietly, looking around to make sure that Spot wasn't in the room. She smiled and took the note.

"You got it," she said, standing up. "I'll do it right now." I grinned.

"Thank you so much," I told her. "I really appreciate it, and I'm sure Racetrack will as well." Pockets smiled.

"Not a problem. What are friends for? I'll be back as soon as I can!" she called over her shoulder as she left the room.

After she left, I walked back over to my bed and laid down. I pulled out my favorite book and started to read. I didn't get very far. My mind kept wandering back to Racetrack. I finally sighed and put the book down, and settled for just lying on my bed, staring up at the ceiling. I must have fallen asleep, because the next ting I knew, someone was shaking me awake. I slowly opened my eyes and saw Spot standing over me.

"Ya've got a visitor," he said and started to walk away. It took my brain a few moments to process what he had said.

"Wait!" I called, getting up and running after him. He stopped and turned around. "Who is it?" I asked, my curiosity getting the best of me. Spot shrugged.

"He's some kind of short Italian." I froze. Was he saying that…

"Racetrack is downstairs?" I gasped, eyes wide. Spot smirked.

"Yeah, that's right. Now get outta here before I change my mind and make ya wait another four days."

I didn't need telling twice. I bolted down the stairs at top speed, skidded around the corner and stopped, looking around. Racetrack was standing by the door, looking out into the street. Right at that moment, he turned around. When he saw me, he grinned the biggest grin I had ever seen on his face. With a laugh, I threw myself into his arms, almost knocking him to the ground. My feet left the floor as he swung me around in a circle. Setting me back down, he pulled me to him and kissed me.

"What are you doing here?" I asked after we pulled apart. He grinned.

"Well, Pockets came to Manhattan and told me that Spot said that I was allowed to come to Brooklyn and see ya." I was confused.

"Why would she tell you that? Spot didn't tell me anything about this." I looked around and spotted Pockets on the other side of the lounge. "Hey Pockets!" I called.

"Aye?" she called, looking up from the book she was reading.

"Come here for a minute, would ya?" Nodding, she set her book down after marking her place.

"What is it, mate?" I laughed.

"You really need to lay off those pirate books for awhile." She laughed.

"Why?" I shook my head.

"Never mind. Why did you tell Racetrack that Spot said that he could come to Brooklyn and see me?" Pockets looked slightly sheepish.

"Well, as I was leaving to go to Manhattan to give Racetrack the note you had written, I ran into Spot, who asked me what I was doin'. I told 'im that I was heading for Manhattan, and he wanted to know why, and I told him some bogus story that he didn't believe. He ended up grabbin' the note from me and reading it. After he read it, he crumpled it up and told me that I didn't need to give it to Racetrack and to just tell Race that he could come and see ya."

"And you didn't tell me this…why?" I asked, wrapping an arm around Racetrack's waist and hooking my thumb into one of his belt loops. Pockets shrugged.

"I decided to get to Manhattan before Spot changed his mind," she said, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"Oh, okay," I said. "Thanks Pockets." She grinned.

"No problem," she called over her shoulder as she headed back to continue reading. After she was gone, I turned to Racetrack.

"So, what do you want to do?" I asked.

"I've got a few ideas," he said, leading me out of the Brooklyn Lodging House.

"Yeah?" I asked, smirking. "Like what?" He grinned.

"You'll see," he said. Suddenly, I realized something.

"Hold on, Race. I'll be right back," I said, and headed back inside. I ran up the stairs and into the bunkroom, looking around. I found Spot standing by the window, looking out into the street and fiddling with his cane. "Hey, Spot?" He turned.

"Yeah?" I took a deep breath.

"Thanks." He waved a hand.

"Yeah, yeah. Now get outta here. Go have some fun with Racetrack." I grinned.

"You got it. Later!" With that, I ran back downstairs to meet Racetrack.


End file.
